“I couldn’t eat minnows’
eggs,” whispered Jeanne, looking rather doubtfully
at the succession of leaf trays that continued to appear.
She nibbled away at some of the least extraordinary-looking
cakes, which the frog informed her were made from
the pith of rushes roasted and ground down, and then
flavoured with essence of marsh marigold, and found
them nearly as nice as macaroons. Then, having
eaten quite as much as they wanted, the tadpoles handed
to each a leaf of the purest water, which they drank
with great satisfaction.

“Now,” said Hugh, “we’re quite
ready for the concert. Shall I row out to the
middle of the lake, Monsieur Frog?”

“Midway between the shore and the island,”
said the frog; “that will be the best position;”
and, as by this time all the frogs that had been sitting
round the edge of the boat had disappeared, Hugh took
the oars and paddled away.

CHAPTER VI.

THE SONG OF THE SWAN.

“——­If
I were on that shore,
I
should live there and not die, but sing evermore.”
JEAN
INGELOW.

“About here will do, I should think—­eh,
Monsieur Frog?” said Hugh, resting on his oars
half-way to the island. But there was no answer.
The frog had disappeared.

“What a queer way all these creatures behave,
don’t they, Jeanne?” he said. “First
Dudu, then Houpet and the others. They go off
all of a sudden in the oddest way.”

“I suppose they have to go when we don’t
need them any more,” said Jeanne. “I
daresay they are obliged to.”

“Who obliges them?” said Hugh.

“Oh, I don’t know! The fairies, I
suppose,” said Jeanne.

“Was it the fairies you meant when you kept
saying ’they’?” asked Hugh.

“I don’t know—­perhaps—­it’s
no use asking me,” said Jeanne. “Fairies,
or dream-spirits, or something like that. Never
mind who they are if they give us nice things.
I am sure the frogs have been very kind, haven’t
they?”

“Yes; you won’t be so afraid of them now,
will you, Jeanne?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I daresay I shall
be, for they’re quite different from our
frogs. Ours aren’t so bright green, and
their eyes aren’t red, and they can’t
talk. Oh no, our frogs are quite different
from theirs, Cheri,” she added with profound
conviction.

“Just like our trees and everything else, I
suppose,” said Hugh. “Certainly this
is a funny country. But hush, Jeanne! I believe
the concert’s going to begin.”